


Little book of Oneshots

by BelindaTopan96



Series: One Of A Kind [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Father Figures, Father's Day, Father-Son Relationship, Freeform, Fun, Love, One Shot, Other, Sons, Vampires, oneshots, original - Freeform, vampire, works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 11:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20425508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelindaTopan96/pseuds/BelindaTopan96
Summary: one-off stories of all my characters in their day to day lives.





	Little book of Oneshots

Rune stares in the mirror huffing as he looks closely at his fangs, drawing his tongue over them, feeling the points and bringing blood forward. Smiling in satisfaction Rune swallows the small droplets. He grasps the black brush and combing his dyed black lox.  
Rune always dressed up when going out, no matter the occasion he continually made an effort to look his best.  
It could be his teenage mind in the back telling him to always look good or his vanity since he matured as a vampire. Vampires don’t age on the outside, but the mind is ever-changing.  
Rune gives himself one more look over. Black combat boots – check, black skinnies – check, band shirt – check, hair brushed – done.  
With a wink to the mirror, Rune steps out of his private bathroom and heading downstairs to meet with his father.  
Clopping down the stairs, one by one he races down till his feet are firmly on the ground. He scans the lower floor of the apartment, his smile falters, his Father is nowhere in sight.  
Finally removing his feet from the bottom of the stairwell, he walks to the dark hall, creeping down to find an empty study.  
“Dad!” Rune shouts from the empty study.  
“Yes?” his father replies.  
“Are you ready?” he shouts back. Loud banging can be heard from the wooden staircase. Rune zips back from the study, his feet at the bottom of the stairwell and his father near the final step to the bottom.  
Rune mouth is left hanging open, scanning his father’s outfit. He didn’t know what was worse, the fact his father is unusually dressed or that he is wearing crocs.  
Dear lord, this is a fashion disaster.’ Rune cries to himself.  
Syrus is always impeccably dressed for the city life, not over the top like his son but is reasonably presentable. He still notes the casual side glances he receives from both genders.  
Syrus never put much effort in either, just some simple pants and shirt and he is out the door, his mind is always on something else, he’s lucky to remember to brush his own hair or put socks on before his shoes.  
“What on earth are you wearing?!” Rune squeaks, his eyes look like they are about to pop out of his head. Syrus gave his son a small smile and jumped off the final step.  
“I should be asking the same thing,” Syrus smiles, Rune grits his teeth. He always hated how his father returns his answers as questions.  
“I mean the crocs, the shorts, the cringy forty-year-old polo shirt. You’re old but don’t have to dress old,” Rune whines his eyes boring into his fathers begging for him to change.  
“I thought it would be appropriate.”  
“For what?”  
“Walking, we are going walking,” Syrus announces. Rune blinks for a few seconds, his brain rebooting from the amount of shock is given to his system.  
“Walking to where?” he asks with clenched teeth, his fangs lengthening. Syrus snorts at his son's frustration.  
“Through the national parks, I think it would be lovely father-son bonding for us to go walking through the forests,” Syrus explains and ruffles his son’s perfectly groomed hair.  
Rune snarls and bats his father's hand away.  
“I don’t – ‘walk.’” Rune bends his fingers as emphasis the word walk. “I was hoping, too – too.”  
“Go somewhere else,” Syrus cuts him off.  
“Yes!” Rune throws his hands up in the air. “Like get a coffee or hunting, a drink,” he lists, and Syrus watches Rune waves his hands about.  
“Like we do any other family time,” Syrus shrugs lazily, grabbing the phone out of his pocket and begins searchings for national parks.  
“Yes, but walking!” Rune cries. Syrus looks up from his phone, getting quite tired of his son’s tantrum. He was hoping Rune to be more excited about the time they spend together than the actual activity. “Anywhere, choose, a museum, a library, an old town that is dying and we feast, just not a rainforest!” Rune pleads with his father.  
Syrus knew his son all too well, he did expect some resistance to the idea, but he didn’t think it would play out this long. So to make him agree, there is a tactic he uses, cruel – yes but necessary to get Rune to try new things.  
“If you don’t want too, then don’t bother coming,” Syrus replies monotonous.  
To Syrus, his expressions to other others are limited, many note for his stony appearance and cold demeanour. Syrus only truly expresses his emotions to his son. The smiles he gives are ones where he enjoys others misery and the fear he has brought upon them.  
Rune shuts his mouth, his eyes widen as fear begins to trickle down his spine.  
“I’ll go.”

***

Rune and nature never really got along. He appreciated its beauty – from a distance, he never really liked traversing through it. Yet here is walking beside his father along the dirt track, in a pair of black shorts loose around his knees, white sneakers and a white tank top. Vampires cannot sweat, but to look to the part is something all vampires must do to blend in, some go over the top, and some fail at blending in. They both reasonably passed for confused tourists, not like they have been living in Australia for the last hundred years.  
Rune can only shudder and sigh as he trecks along, he didn’t mind the serene peacefulness the forest brought and the fresh mountain air. The songbirds are lively, with a random encounter of bush turkeys running across the dirt path as they draw nearer. Wallabies eat the spiky bunya pine leaves, scattered amongst the ground from the tree above.  
The creek trickles along the carved path of stone and sand, western Queensland has been so dry, it hasn’t rained in over a year. The streams are struggling to flow, even in the mountains, where you assume everything is green and fresh.  
“This is nice,” Syrus comments, Rune grunts.  
“Sure if you can count the number of heartbeats I can hear in the distance. Can we eat them?” Rune changes the topic. Syrus gives a short chuckle and shakes his head.  
“Always about your stomach. Once we reach the halfway point, we’ll stop for lunch,” Syrus compromises. Rune rolls his eyes and pouts.  
“Fine,” he mutters, giving up without a fight.  
They remain quiet for some time, Rune stopping from time to time to read the metal signs, learning as much as he can from the information presented on there.  
“See this trip isn’t so bad,” Syrus muses looking over his son's shoulder.  
“Yeah, yeah, just because I like to learn doesn’t mean you’ve won,” Rune retorts. Syrus just shakes his head and looks over to the humongous base of the bunya pine. “Stand in front of the tree, I want to take a photo.” Rune slightly hangs open, processing the words that had just come out of his father’s mouth. “No? well then you take the photo, I’ll stand in front of the tree,” Syrus thrusts his phone onto Rune and steps off the track into the bush, trecking to the base of the pine and posing in front of the tree.  
Rune takes the photo for his father but dies a little on this inside while doing so.  
The most dangerous vampire in history and he wants a dang photo with this tree. Rune bitterly thinks.  
Syrus get back on the dirt path, taking his phone back and admiring Rune’s photography work.  
“Good shot.”  
Both reach the end of the falls, finally arriving at the halfway point. Rune grew more impatient as they waited for a couple or someone alone to feed upon. To rid of the evidence is easy to eat in plain sight is another story. Rune can easily wait for his meal, it is the unwavering anxiousness he gets when he finally takes notice of his father's eyes. A light grey, dull, and dead, Rune can tell he is nearing the stage of starvation.  
He only curses himself for not noticing earlier.  
Syrus has a high pain tolerance, he doesn’t acknowledge the hunger or the urgency his body pushes when he needs to feed. Syrus has grown accustomed to the pain, the burning sensation so much, he can last weeks without having to hunt. His mind no longer loses itself to the bloodlust, for he had lost it numerous times in his early life in vampirism, through sheer will, he has taught himself control, but it still takes a significant toll on the old vampire. He grows weary, tired and soon he would sleep and never wake up until someone feeds him.  
It is not that he forgets, ignoring the signs and adjusting to the pain, it is mostly due to the fact he has no will. The only thing that keeps him around on this rock is his son. If Rune had not existed, Syrus would not be here today.  
Many would say this is an unhealthy relationship, to put so much pressure on person alone, the weight that you are the only reason to keep someone from death. Rune knows this, but it's not entirely the case. His father is self-destructive and will find some way out, but he does not put the burden on Rune. If anything Rune takes it upon himself to make sure his father has fed or to snap him from his depressive episodes. Syrus gives his son space, lets him do as he pleases, Syrus never asks for him to stay when he is doom and gloom, never begs to remain by his side, nothing. To Syrus, Rune gives him purpose, it is his job to look after him, raise him, comfort him, Rune is his son, and it is his duty as his father to look after him.  
Rune looks back to the view, Syrus stands beside him, both standing in silence, the breeze gently blowing in the air, as they listen to the forest behind them. The view itself is beautiful, the vast landscape of the mountains and trees, the broad fields below. Rune gently smiles.  
Rune shouldn’t have taken this day for granted, time spent with his father is a blessing, due to some of the time constraints of their busy schedules. They usually spend an hour in the city or some café before either one of them is whisked away due to some emergency. Rune misses the days where they would be spending every second, plotting, hunting, travelling, without a disruption. He looks forward to the days they can return to that lifestyle again. But for it is him and his dad, walking through the serene forest, no one, knowing where they are. Peace at last.  
Rune wraps his arm around his father's waist and tightly hugs him.  
“You know, this was a good idea after all,” Rune murmurs. Syrus smiles at his son, hugging him tight in return. “Love you, Dad.”  
“Love you too, son.”


End file.
